The Eye Of The Storm
by Shaps
Summary: AH, OOCish, AU. Alice's POV. Morehead City, North Carolina, is about to get hit by a category one cyclone. Alice goes there only because of a vision, but she'll stay there because of who she meets...
1. Leaving Home

**Okay! Here's my latest creation - Alice's POV of a six part story - "The Eye Of The Storm". Here are the authors doing the other points of view:**

**Eevy Angel **writing** Rosalie.  
Sierra Echo Bravo** writing **Emmett.  
Luvvampluvdog** writing **Edward.  
CarribbeanLady** writing **Bella.  
book2romantic** writing **Jasper  
Shaps** writing **Alice**

**So if you want to go find their characters' stories, go right on ahead!**

* * *

**Mary Alice Brandon**

I had known I would find him. I always knew. That was the problem, though.

Ever since I was little, I would always blank out and see things that weren't yet there. Pre-school teachers convinced my parents that they were just the products of an overly active imagination – but I knew better. And I also knew they weren't going to go away, these "visions". So instead of persisting that I was right and they were wrong, I allowed them to believe that my mind was perfectly clean and blank most of the time – when it was really so full of colour and bright pictures that sometimes it scared me.

And I knew that they wouldn't allow themselves to believe me, not now, not ever. No matter how many times I predicted the T.V. sitcoms, the weather, and the home-arrival of my father from the office… My parents were far too normal for someone like me to be acknowledged. It was like living with Petunia and Vernon Dursley, and I was Harry Potter.

So it didn't surprise me that as I was typing my paper on The Taming of the Shrew for drama class on a boring Saturday morning, I was suddenly seeing something completely different to the dull computer screen in front of me.

It was a map of the world, zooming down on my home in Pine Grove. It then zoomed back out, and followed a pattern along the roads, leading me toward the ocean. A moment later I was shown Morehead City, then its interlacing streets, until a few simple turns were made and I was at a restaurant. _'Bistro By The Sea'_. I remained outside for a moment before I saw the most beautiful sight my well-travelled eyes have ever seen.

A boy was there, lingering just across the road. The dampened road in front of him reflected his image blurrily, and there were drops of moisture clinging to his cheeks. He looked like a model in a casual-clothing commercial. It wasn't raining, despite the evidence that it had been recently. He seemed to be deciding whether to go in or not, but then his weight fell forward onto his quick feet and he crossed the road and entered the building in a moment. I was left outside, figuratively gaping at my vision, before being wrenched back into reality.

I blinked for a few seconds, reorganising my thoughts. The computer hummed quietly on the desk, my fingers frozen on the keyboard. I blinked again.

_Who _was_ that guy?_

My arms loosened; my wrists relaxing and fingers pushing down on the keys. A string of jumbled letters appeared on a sentence I'd not finished writing.

Normally, my visions were nothing more than slight glimpses of the future; snippets of things that may or may not happen according to the decisions associated with them. I'd never, in my seventeen years of life and fifteen years of memorable mental pictures, seen something so _specific_. Clearly, I was being given directions. And I was determined to go.

I pulled my hands back and pushed myself away from the computer desk, the chair wheels whirring across the floorboards of my bedroom. I stood up and went to my white-framed window, looking down on the world from two storeys up.

My house sat comfortably on the rise of a hill, giving a wonderful view of the sprawling town down below. It was extremely modern; showing barely any personal touches and possessing dangerously pointed corners in its design. My architect mother had drawn up the plan herself, and my building-company owning father had made it into a reality. It was a nice house, I supposed, but it was too big for three people and didn't feel like 'home' to me at all.

Wealthy as my parents were, however, they couldn't purchase the forced normalcy of their only child; no matter how normal I had been originally. A name like Mary Alice practically screamed 'common', but my reputation – both at school and in general society – was anything but.

By virtue of merciless teasing in pre-school by the worlds biggest (and scariest) five-year old, I had been rendered friend-less for most of my life. Only a few people during the summer vacations had been more than just acquaintances with me – some girls, some boys.

There were two of these people who stuck most vividly in my mind. One was Sarah Cilles. She was a seemingly bored girl of my age who had never related to people well, either. We got to know each other because of my habit of searching particular people out by "a lucky coincidence". We visited regularly during that time a lifetime of summers ago, but since then hadn't seen each other. I had given her my details, figuring that if she was still interested in knowing me, she'd call. But she hadn't. And I was okay with that, because I knew we'd meet again some day.

The other person who'd become one of my greatest once-in-a-summertime friendships was Jonah Crockett. Jonah was a great guy; one of the people I still keep in contact with. Of course, I had only met him during the last summer – but my encounter with him wasn't like the others. I had not had a vision involving him, so I was very surprised when he asked for my help with directions on the street one day. Sensing that he was a good person and someone worth staying in touch with, I asked him if he wanted to catch up again; at the same time making it clear that I wasn't interested in him in _that way_ at all. He returned the attitude to a friendship-only acquaintance, and we'd agreed to meet again the next day. His family lived in Newport, so there were no problems distance-wise.

Yet, even as I drove too-fast along the highway toward Morehead City, I couldn't help but wonder what Jonah was doing now, and when I was going to see him again. Usually, by now I would have had a vision about who my newest summertime friend was going to be, being the beginning of summer and all. Maybe this stunning blonde man was going to take up the position? I certainly hoped so.

I saw a traffic hold-up ahead and slowed my dark sedan down to a crawling pace. I twisted in my seat to see what was going on up ahead – there were people in high visibility jackets cutting a large tree into smaller pieces and removing it from the road. Mentally, I cussed myself for not seeing this sooner, but decided to sit back and relax for a minute in compensation.

Gently, my eyelids slid down over my eyes and I took a few deep breaths to calm my excited pulse. Ever since the vision of that restaurant and its occupant had come to mind, my heart had been on adrenaline-pumping overdrive.

I began to think about the conversation between my mother and I before I'd left home this afternoon.

--

I ran down the stairs two at a time, coming to a five-step leap at the foot just as my mother rounded the corner. She jumped and held her heart in fright. I just rolled my eyes, expecting the obvious.

"Alice!' she scolded breathlessly. "The neighbours might have seen! Have you no self-preservation? You'll end up in a broken heap on the carpet one day if you keep that up, you know." She gave me her annoying all-knowing look before she straightened her jacket and continued on through to the kitchen.

I yanked my jeans up a little before following her. My mother was digging in the fridge, so I pattered across the tiles and sat down on one of the bar stools around the cooking island.

"Mum," I began in my most controlled voice, "I was wondering if I could go for a drive this afternoon."

My mother's long black hair fell into her face as she straightened up to look at me. She possessed dark eyes, unlike my blue ones, and they were a strange shade of brown that reminded me of volcanic rock because of their almost-purple quality. She had a slender jaw line, but large apples to her cheeks prevented her from looking too thin. She had, altogether, a very pretty face.

"Why? And where do you want to go?" The contents of the vegetable crisper fell onto the countertop from her hands, the fridge door closing with a backwards push of her foot.

"Morehead City," I answered simply.

"Why?"

"There's someone there I want to meet."

She looked at me with almost-maroon eyes, and I could hear the question before she'd voiced it. "Is this because of another one of your hallucinations?"

This had happened too many times before for it to wind me up. I'd learned it was just easiest to agree, and pacify them by admitting that it might not turn out the way I knew it would. But it always did.

"Yes. If they're not there, I'll just come home again. I'll be back before nightfall at the very least, I think." I decided to be tactful as I added on the end, "I was planning on going down that way to see Jonah soon anyway."

The mention of Jonah lightened my mother's resolve immediately. I couldn't blame her – he _was_ unreasonably good-looking. And a gentleman too. But, not the one for me.

"Oh, well, you let him know I said hello, won't you?" She started cutting vegetables. I wondered what she was making, but then an instantaneous vision of a steaming bowl of minestrone answered my question for me.

"Okay, mum. I should be home for dinner." I hopped off the stool and headed back to the stairs, but doubled back once I was through the doorway. "Mum?"

She looked up in response, the knife halting in the air above a carrot. Another vision flitted into my head.

"Don't forget to add some water to the vegies before you throw them in the blender. And, there are some bandaids in the cupboard above the kettle."

She looked at me curiously before shaking off my comment and continuing to chop through the orange stick.

Just as I reached the top of the stairs, though, I heard her swear under her breath as she clipped the side of her finger with the knife. There was a creak as she opened the cupboard above the kettle, and I knew she'd listened to me about the bandaids.

--

I nearly fell out of my seat when the car behind me beeped their horn impatiently. I threw an annoyed look over my shoulder, seeing a cabbie with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He gave me the finger when he caught me looking, and I poked my tongue out childishly back at him. It was a signature move.

The cabbie leaned on his horn again, and I closed my eyes in frustration. It was like he was beating a saucepan with an iron bar over my head. A second later his car disappeared into my blind spot as he pulled out, driving too-fast along the wrong side of the road. A few cars coming from the other direction beeped furiously at him as he swerved off the edge onto the dirt shoulder. I laughed. Yet somehow, the cabbie made it through the swarm of high visibility jackets and a moment later was flooring it ahead of everyone, on the other side of the obstructing tree.

Ten minutes later, I huffed in boredom. Unfortunately for us lollipop-abiding citizens, the clearance of the tree hadn't progressed much.

I flipped on the radio and listened to the mindless drone of the hosts. My interest was peaked a minute later when the weather report for the weekend began. Being a local radio station, the information about Morehead City came up first.

_And there are plenty of traffic problems around Morehead City, powerlines down on highways and some people even finding their back fences down due to trees… But the biggest news of the hour is that Morehead City is about eight hours away from a serious hurricane… authorities are slowly cutting off all entries into the city… if you're heading in we suggest that you turn yourself right on around and head back to higher, drier land. This is Mix Sixty-Three FM, giving you the biggest news every fifteen minutes._

I immediately panicked. The police were barricading all entries into the city? I needed to get to that restaurant, _today!_ I was uncertain for a half moment, but a momentary vision of my sedan cruising through the clear road into Morehead City made my decision for me.

I held off for about thirty seconds, knowing that the last car heading away from the city was about to pass me, then I made like a crazy cab driver and pulled out from the line-up.

I pushed my foot to the floor, engine throwing me back into my seat, and whipped past every one of the workers without touching even a splinter on the road. _Lucky_, I thought happily as I left the stunned lollipop man behind me.

Because I was concentrating so hard on keeping my car on the road as I headed to Morehead City, it didn't seem like more than the blink of an eye before I was within the town limits. Thunder rumbled threateningly overhead, rain sprinkling down on my car at the same moment. I flicked on the wipers and kept weaving my way through the almost-deserted streets. Despite my knowledge that it couldn't have been later than one o'clock, the sky looked like it was approaching sunset.

I followed the directions I'd seen in my mind's eye, rounding a corner to finally see the restaurant sitting in all its yellow-walled glory, rain misting mysteriously around it. There was a circular sign by the main entrance declaring it to be the _'Bistro By The Sea'_, and my heart breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't here yet, because the road wasn't wet enough to reflect an image.

I pulled up into the car park beside the restaurant, hopping out and locking the car behind me without looking. The reassuring _'blip blip'_ sounded as the parking lights flashed twice behind me.

The door to the restaurant was made of glass, and I saw inside that it looked very warm. Grateful for a break from the building wind, I pushed my way through the heavy door, letting it fall closed behind me. The gush of icy air alerted the maitre d' to my presence, and she scooted over with a politely professional smile on her face.

_Libby,_ declared her nametag. "Hello, how can I be of service?"

"I'd like a table for two," I said, looking around the restaurant.

"Do you have reservations?" she asked, tapping away on a small, hand-held organiser that I assumed was linked to the restaurant's mainframe.

"No," I said, knowing without hesitation that they _did_ have spare tables. I could see some across the room.

"No problem." Libby pushed the organiser back into her pocket and smiled warmly at me. "Can I take your jacket before you sit?"

"That's alright. I'll keep it with me for now."

"Let me show you to your seat then." She didn't want for a response, leading me to a table off to the right. I was grateful for the view outside through a large window. As I watched, sheeting rain began again outside. "Can I get you anything to drink?" Libby asked me, alerting me to her presence once more.

"Not yet, I'd like to wait a while until my friend arrives."

Libby smiled politely again. "Of course. Let me know if you need anything." She bowed her head slightly before ducking back to the 'IN' doors of the kitchen. Once there was a small basket of breadsticks on my table, she resumed her post at the front of the restaurant to welcome customers.

Pleased with my efforts and timing, I allowed my eyes to wander around the place. The walls surrounding the dining area had tasteful maroon decorative patterns on them, and I could see a piano on a raised platform by an area I assumed was the dance floor. The rich floorboards glimmered welcomingly in the bare lighting provided by the wall-lights. There was a wall half-separating the dancing area from the dining, and it was dimmer on the dance floor. There was a bar across the room from me, the classic woodwork evident again. It was clear that this place was meant for the wealthy. I wondered if that was the case for my mystery boy.

I waited for a while, people-watching to pass the time. Too many hours after I arrived, I accepted Libby's persistent efforts to get to me to have something to drink. She replaced the breadsticks at the same time, and I felt a little embarrassed that I'd finished them off by myself. Again.

"Are you sure he's coming?" Libby asked me again, all of a thousand times.

I smiled warily, my patience not yet stretched due to the practise provided by my parents.

"I'm sure."

She looked at me with an expression that could be described most accurately as 'pity', and then walked away. She thought he wasn't coming.

Despite this, a minute later she returned with a stack of unlit candles in her hands.

"For the evening-diners," she clarified when I opened my mouth to ask. I just nodded in response, watching as she lit the tall wax-and-string combination with a match. She repeated the process with each of the other tables, dimming the overhead lights to a romantic haze a minute later.

There was a buzzing in my pocket, and I looked down in surprise. The little blue light on the screen of my phone was flashing with the vibrations, announcing that there was a call from 'home'. I sighed and flipped the top.

"Hello?"

"Alice! There you are darling. I thought you'd be home by now." It was my mother. "Are you still coming home for dinner?"

I thought about this very quickly, deciding that I would wait all night if that's what it would take. Besides, if the blonde guy walked in right now I wouldn't have enough time to drive home to catch dinner anyway.

"No, I'm going to dine out with a friend tonight."

"Oh!" She sounded almost insultingly surprised. "You met the person you went to meet, then?"

I hesitated for a moment, not liking to lie. There was a tinkling across the room, indicating that another patron had entered the restaurant. I glanced up with disinterest, presuming that it would be another moustached man with a too-dark-lipstick wife on his arm.

But it wasn't. It was _him._

"Yes, I found him. I have to go; it's rude to be on the phone when you're with someone. Don't wait up for me. See you later." I threw the words into a single breath, excited beyond heart-rate capability. I would have been impressed if she'd understood me.

But I could hear her protests from the phone as I snapped it shut, so I assumed she hadn't. Oh well. I'd call her later.

However, my attention was completely claimed by a stranger across the room, so thoughts of my parents quickly vanished.

"Hello, how many for your party?" Libby asked the gorgeous man, habitually reaching for her organiser.

The mysterious boy looked uncomfortable. "Um… actually…"

I grinned, and piped up immediately. "You've kept me waiting," I called across the room.

* * *

**Well!! That's the first chapter! If you want to review, I know you will, so I'm not gonna bug you by telling you to do so.**

**However, if you want to tell me what your favourite movie of all time is, go right ahead! Mine's 'She's The Man'. Yumm... Channing Tatum...**

**-Shaps**


	2. Introductions

**Hey guys, I'm back with the second chapter! Sorry it took such a long time - but seriously, working with so many others and waiting so we can all post at about the same time takes just a bit longer than a few days. Sorry again! Hope you enjoy the next installment...**

* * *

"_Hello, how many for your party?" Libby asked the gorgeous man, habitually reaching for her organiser._

_The mysterious boy looked uncomfortable. "Um… actually…"_

_I grinned, and piped up immediately. "You've kept me waiting," I called across the room._

Libby stiffened and turned slowly toward me, and by sense of a rather keen intuition I could tell that she was disappointed she wouldn't have the ample opportunity to flirt with my guest.

_My _guest.

Tall, and wearing the exact same clothes from my vision, he looked even more unreal while he stood across the room from me than he had in my vision. It was like watching a film.

He stared at me for a full ten seconds, unmoving, looking at every aspect of my face and visible appearance. Half of me _was_ hidden by the table, of course. He just looked, but instead of the crawly feeling I usually get when guys stare at me, I felt the skin on the back of my neck warm with something like a breath. It was oddly comforting.

Then he dropped his gaze to the floor, unsure of what to do.

Libby led him over to me, polite smile in place. "Would y'all like something to drink?" she asked him, stopping just shy of hitting the table's edge.

He looked like he hadn't heard for a moment, but then he blinked and seemed to understand.

"Coke," he said.

Libby bowed her head slightly, but he wasn't looking at her any more. She left to get his drink.

I waved to the seat across from me, determined to be polite. "Sit," I offered.

He flumped down like a bag of rice – like he'd been on his toes, waiting for the offer.

"Sorry I kept you waiting," he said quietly, ducking his head in a small apologetic nod. One corner of my mouth pulled up as I remembered how clueless he was to my appearance. "I didn't know that anyone would be waiting for me though," he went on. "And I'm sorry again, but do we know each other from somewhere?" He grinned, like he was trying to remember me from somewhere.

The tap dancers in my stomach were dancing something furious, but I tried not to let it show. My excitement was overriding the urge to crawl under the table and apologise with my face covered. I started to fidget – wait, scrap that – I started to fidget _more_.

"Well, I guess it's understandable that you don't remember me, since you've never even seen me before. But I'm Alice." I smiled long and wide now, trying to give the impression that I may be slightly hyper, but not crazy or stalkerish.

"Good," he said, "I hate it when I meet someone again and I've forgotten them. I always feel like such an… a jerk." He changed his sentence halfway, and I guessed as to why.

"No, you seem like a perfect gentleman," I countered truthfully. "I've definitely got my contacts – I can usually find people easily. When they want to be found, of course."

"Oh?" He seemed interested. "How's that?"

"You just happened to turn up on the radar in my… um, actually, you just happened to turn up."

He looked confused. "I don't understand what you mean. Honestly, I've been trying to lay low. And I haven't been missing long enough for the cops to get involved."

Ignoring the intense interest I felt at wanting to hear his story, my mouth formed words of its own accord. "I had some pretty weird ways of figuring out that we'd meet. I…" The words still wouldn't come out. I stared down at the table blankly for a few seconds, not moving, afraid for the first time in my life of being shunned for what I could do.

"What is it?" I asked her.

"You won't believe me," I whispered. Suddenly, embarrassingly, I felt timid. I was _never_ timid. "You'll… you'll laugh and … and…"

I took a chance look up from the tablecloth. He was focusing entirely on me.

"No I won't."

I put my head in my hands, a headache threatening the borders of my skull. Once they were there, I didn't want to take them down. Never before had I been so afraid of a negative reaction. I looked up at him from between my fingers. He grinned, but the focus was still there.

_Don't squeak, don't squeak, don't squeak…_

"Iceethefutre," I squeaked the breath of mushy words.

"What?" he chuckled immediately. My ears flared.

"See! I knew you'd laugh!" I shot, genuinely hurt. He was laughing at me.

"What? No. No, I just didn't hear you. You squeaked and I couldn't tell what you said."

_Liar. _"I. Don't. Squeak." I snapped, more angry at myself for being so out of character with this peachy faced man.

"My mistake," he said, but there was humor in his voice. "I just must not have heard you." He turned my best puppy dog eyes on me, and my bones melted in to puddles at my feet. Oh, _wow._ That look could charm the heavens…When he spoke again, his voice was husky and low. I loved it. "Could you please tell me again?"

The melting of my bones had slightly softened the glare on my face, but the adorable look in his eyes was my Achilles heel. "Ok," I breathed, summing my life up to the details before delivery.

"My name is Mary Alice Brandon. I live in Pine Grove – a housing estate up north. I have a mother and a father who live there too, no siblings, and ever since I was a kid I've been able to see the future."

Clearly, he didn't believe me. The little pink monster was starting to climb back on my shoulder, however. Instead of trembling with pain, now I was determined to _make_ him believe me.

Libby appeared then – and I had to applaud her timing. She was carrying his soda in a frosty old fashioned diner style glass. The ice chinked against the edge as she sat it down.

"Would you like to order now?" she asked. She frowned, looking between the two of us.

"Uh, no, I need to look at the menu still," he said, and I realised that we had been caught up in our own little bubble with no regard for anyone else. Two tables had emptied without my noticing.

My guest reached for his menu but didn't open it.

Libby cleared her throat, vying for his attention. "Well, call out if you need anything, and I'll stop by in a minute." She scurried back towards the kitchen, casting an admiring look back over her shoulder. He ignored her, his eyes trained on me. I thrilled on the inside and started bouncing slightly in my seat.

"How does that work?" he finally asked. I didn't need clarification. That question was one of the most common asked when people were told of my ability. And, like almost everyone else, there was clear skepticism in his tone. My heart began to sink toward my knees, floating and spinning on its way down like a dark red leaf in autumn. The disappointment couldn't be hidden from my expression.

"Never mind," I said, looking away. I abruptly wanted him to forget about it for the moment, until I could think of a sure-fire way to gain his belief. I brought a hand up to my eyes, kneading my eyeballs to get the neurons firing. It didn't work.

"Hey," he said gently, and I felt his warm fingers close around the hand still resting on the table.

My eyes snapped open so fast that I narrowly avoided poking myself in the eye. Good thing my palm blocked that view from him. I sucked in a quick breath and didn't breathe it out for fear of ruining the moment.

"Please," he went on. "I want to hear about it. About you."

_Oh my God! He's interested – perhaps on some kind of freaky-science-experiment level – but I'll take it!_

"We should order," I said, lowering my hand. I didn't want everything to be all about me. I suddenly worried about something – he hadn't said a thing about himself. I didn't even know his name.

"Will you tell me after that?" he asked with an unexpected note of desperation in his tone.

_Hmm…_

I smiled again and reached for the menu, gently loosening my hand from his smooth palm. I didn't want to, but it was better for me to do it than for him to. Most girls would do something like it – it was a defensive mechanism. "I guess so."

He finally opened his own menu, staring without seeing. I couldn't help but watch him for a few seconds, but then his eyes started to move and I concentrated on my own list for fear of getting caught perving. He really was _gorgeous_.

Curly writing covered the pages of the leather-bound menu. I glanced at the prices first, thinking of how to best pull out my credit card when it was required. Perhaps I could get a glance at his shoes while leaning for my bag? Shoes say a lot about a person.

A few silent minutes later I'd made a mental list of what I wanted, so I looked around for Libby. She materialised quickly once spotted, her pen poised for action.

Determined to be polite, I lowered my menu and folded my hands. "So what would you like?" I asked him. He just inclined his head towards me.

_A gentleman too._

I cleared my throat, wanting to sound confident with myself. Apparently, guys love confidence.

"I'll have the 'Chilled Fresh Basil, Tomatoes, Bufala Mozzarella' dish as my appetizer please. Then, for the main course…" I glanced down at my menu again, though I couldn't stop myself from peeking at my guest to gauge his reaction. He looked kind of impressed, but the look was too quick to be sure. "And the 'Chargrilled Fresh Ground Sirloin' as my main, thank you. Oh, and add the 'Marsala Wine Mushroom Sauce' to the sirloin, please."

Libby made some marks on her organiser. "Starch or vegetable with that?"

"Vegetable, thank you."

"And what would you like, sir?"

"Could I have the Caesar salad to start with and the 'Chargrilled London Broil' for mains."

I inwardly applauded. He didn't look like he came from a 'posh society', but pronunciation was spot on and he was ordering some of the most expensive things on the menu.

Libby finished scribbling, whisked away the menus and disappeared through the kitchen doors once again.

I started to fidget, remembering my promise. "Does this mean I have to talk now?"

"What? No, not if you don't want to."

"Good. I just, I don't know, I'd rather talk about some thing else." I really didn't want to hear him laugh at me again… I'd only bared half the situation. He didn't yet need to know how I'd found him.

My theory of his tiredness was proven when he yawned, trying at the last minute to cover his mouth with his hand. I giggled slightly at his late reaction. It looked so silly, the way his hand almost thwacked his teeth and how his eyes crinkled at the corners. I noticed for the first time a long scar on the back of his hand, running across his knuckles then turning sharply to hide beneath his sleeve. I was contemplating a polite way to ask when he interrupted my thoughts.

"I need to go wash my hands, so you don't talk about anything important yet." He rose from the table and started to walk away, but then twisted back and pushed his chair in. The manners are definitely there, then. They must have stemmed from somewhere. He wove his carefully way through tables and chairs toward to the bathroom, then disappeared through the swinging door.

I started fiddling with my fork, thinking.

My mystery man seemed quite elusive, but I loved it. There was nothing more fabulous to me than a good mystery because they didn't happen very often. I wondered where he had come from, and why he was here, in Morehead City. His attitude to the stewardess suggested he didn't come here often, let alone to somewhere even remotely like this at all. His clothes suggested no sign of imminent wealth, as was the same with the leather duffel bag he'd left beside his chair.

_Ooooh!_

_I shouldn't… I shouldn't… but I really want to!_ A look in to the future told me that he wasn't returning within a few minutes, so I threw caution to the wind and dived for the bag.

It was made of the kind of crinkly leather that you would expect to find on a grandfather's favourite around-home shoes. The bag was very soft, and worn, but sturdy. I took a quick peek around me before leaning forward and inhaling the scent of the bag. It was like freshly baked white-chocolate muffins. I loved muffins. The zipper opened easily. I automatically reached in and pulled out the first thing I touched. A toothbrush.

_Boring, that's normal…_

An expensive silver flip-top cigarette lighter came out next. Yuck, I hated cigarettes. They smelled dreadful, made the smoker smell like death and caused the same outcome. That would have to change.

I placed that on the table beside the toothbrush, and reached in once more. Something cold and hard brushed my fingertips. Fascinated and burningly curious, I pulled it out and slapped it down in my palms.

_Oh God._

However, my freak-out was interrupted by my handy warning vision – my guest was about to put his hand on the door to re-enter the dining room. Racing, I swept the toothbrush, lighter and offensive item into his duffel bag, zipped it shut and gently swung it back down on to the floor by his chair.

I tried to look normal as he reached his chair – but felt my face slacken as I realised something crucial.

_Wrong side of the chair. Uh oh. Please don't notice, please don't notice, please don't notice…_

"What's the matter?" he asked, still standing behind his chair. Oh, how ironically sweet. He was worried about my well-being.

"Nothing," I answered quickly. Too quickly. _Damn it._

He looked down to grip the back of his chair then, but his head swiveled from one side of his chair to the other, obviously calculating the duffel-bag situation. His shoulder's tensed and his eyes were flamingly dangerous when he looked up at me. My blood didn't turn to ice at that stare – it felt like it had left my body entirely.

"Find anything interesting?" His voice was like a whip. I flinched.

"I-in your bag. W-was… is that …"

"A gun?" he snarled. I nodded, my throat tight with fear. Everything I thought I had known about this guy was unpleasantly skewed by that single item. His eyes froze over. "Yes. Yes it is."

"Why?" I asked, truly lost.

He looked very angry. "I don't think I need explain my self to you," he spat. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing in this place anyhow." He stood up quickly, producing a wad of green from his pocket and tossing a fifty onto the table.

He turned to walk away, and I raised my hand as if to say something to get him to come back, but he stopped and turned. I retracted my hand ever so slightly, something that didn't pass his attention.

"Sorry you waited for nothing."

I wasn't sure, but he sounded just as disappointed as I felt.

* * *

**Okay! There it is! Hope it was worth reading :-)**

**Chapter 2 Question:**

**What is your favourite thing to do when you're bored?**

**I like to write :-D shocking, I know! Lol.**

**Have a fantastic new years,**

**-Shaps**


	3. Shelter

**Hey everyone! Sorry about the wait, again, but I think the updates to this might just be ten days or so apart each time. Which isn't so bad, when you think about it. Anyway, onward we go!!**

* * *

_He turned to walk away, and I raised my hand as if to say something to get him to come back, but he stopped and turned. I retracted my hand ever so slightly, something that didn't pass his attention._

"_Sorry you waited for nothing."_

_I wasn't sure, but he sounded just as disappointed as I felt._

The tinkling of the entrance bell sounded as he left the restaurant. For three full seconds I stared at the money he'd left on the table, then I realised that I was not going to give this up without a fight.

He might have a gun, and he might not want to talk to me, but he sure as hell wasn't getting off that easy. I travelled a fair damn way to see this guy – who I didn't even have a name to match to the face – I wanted that much before I left.

I stood, almost knocking my chair over, and headed for the door on light feet. I passed Libby as I walked out.

"We're not coming back," I called to her over my shoulder as I pushed the door open. She either didn't care to reply or she was just too shocked. I'd go with the latter.

Up ahead, I could see him walking quickly away from the restaurant. He was very far away already – he'd reached the streets that had clothing stores lining the sidewalk. But it was only lightly raining at the moment and I wasn't giving up because of a few puddles.

I prayed to God that my flats wouldn't fall off my feet as I sprinted forwards. Just before I reached him, two things happened. One was that he spun around, clearly hostile; but the other was more important.

The visual of his grey-green eyes had shocked me in to Seeing. It was his hand writing on a piece of paper, like a form you fill out when you give blood or something. He was writing his name down. _Jasper._

"Look, just get the hell away from me," he immediately snapped.

Oddly, I felt self-conscious in his presence again. I was glad of the rain, which had flattened my hair against my head; and was also hiding the stupid welling of tears at his harsh tone.

"It isn't supposed to be like this," I said quietly. I wanted so badly for him to stay near me – though he might make me unsure of myself, at the same time I felt unreasonably fascinated. "I... I'm sorry I looked through your things."

"Leave me alone, ok? I'm not the kind of person you want to get involved with." He started walking away again.

"Jasper, please! Wait!" I cried, almost hitting myself for using his name. I hope he wouldn't notice that I knew it without being told. "Where will you go? I can help you." I reached up and touched his shoulder gently, thinking that it would calm him.

I was wrong.

He turned so fast I didn't know what had happened until my arm was being pulled up behind my back. I spluttered – from both surprise and fear – and he pushed me forward until he was sandwiching me between a lightless shop window and his body.

I winced at the pain and he released his grip enough for me to turn around. As soon as I saw what was pointed at me though, my back flattened against the shop window. He had the gun, and it was pointed right at my face. _Shit._

"Do I look like I need your help?" he growled. His face had taken on some animalistic quality and for the first time since meeting him, my only thought was that _this was a bad idea._

I swallowed hard and tried to find some words. Nothing came to mind. I couldn't even think straight enough to See into the future to check if he was going to shoot me. Never a good sign.

I could see my reflection in the grey of his eyes, and was unpleasantly informed of just how scared I looked. He moved the gun across slightly, and I followed it with my eyes. When it went in my blind spot I closed my eyes, but couldn't contain the shudder when I felt the cold metal of the gun barrel press against my head.

Horrified, terrified and helpless, I did the only thing I could do. I concentrated, _hard_, and looked forward. In the future he was walking away from me, but I was physically unharmed. He wasn't going to kill me. _There's still good in him…_

I felt the warmth from his moist skin radiate to my own when he leaned in to my ear. Another shiver went down my spine – but not entirely from fear. On some level, I was very messed up to find such a situation even mildly erotic.

"Run home, little girl. Don't look for me. Don't follow me. I am not interested in your help."

Weak at the knees from the assault on my senses – every single bloody one of them – I sunk down the wall when he pulled his hips away from mine. He'd been pinning me there and I hadn't even noticed. I didn't try to get up, aware of the imminent danger if I pissed him off just a bit too much; so I watched him until he rounded a corner and disappeared from view.

Five minutes later, when I was good and saturated, I got up. I checked my phone – it was still working, amazingly, and made sure my keys were still in my pocket. I pulled up the hood of my little marshmallow jacket and jogged back toward the _Bistro By The Sea_, went past it and to the parking lot. My Porsche was still there, thankfully.

I slid in and reached over to the back for my overnight bag. Quickly, just in case anyone was looking, I slipped on a new set of clothes. My undergarments were dry enough to leave on.

Once all this was done, I seized a bread roll from its plastic wrap in the same bag I'd thrown my clothes in to and wolfed it down, chasing some Evian between bites.

Stomach full and thirst quenched, I lay my head back on the headrest and waited for something to come to me. I wondered about Jasper while I waited…

He had seemed like a good person, back in the restaurant. He paid, for goodness sake! Without eating anything, no less! True, he didn't dress in labels – but if I were to lower myself to the standard of judging people on their appearances then everyone else would be justified in calling me a 'Rich Bitch'. Jasper…it was a lovely name; very old-school but very in-vogue at the same time. Not that it really mattered, but a good name rolls off the tongue.

"Jasper," I said to myself, just to test it out. It sounded nice. "Alice and Jasper."

I sat for perhaps a minute longer, then a vision presented itself. Jasper was leaving a Kwik Stop and heading up the road away from the highway…and then he was running in to a church with protected windows surrounded by cars before a bucket load of rain hit. I looked a little closer at the sign outside the building.

"Saint Paul's Church."

I came back to reality with my heart thudding happily in my chest. Even if this Jasper wasn't a good idea, I'd still needed somewhere to stay for the night. And the local shelter – at the church, I was assuming – would be the best place to go.

So with that I revved the engine, pulled out of the parking lot and drove the necessary six or so blocks down the street to the church. I parked my conspicuous car around the other side, where Jasper wouldn't see it, and hopped out, guided by the light filtering out between the spaces of the boarded-up windows and the window frames. The windows were _huge_, stretching from the roof of the place to about three feet from the ground. I'd never seen anything like it. Whoever had put those boards on the windows would have had one hell of a time with the higher ones.

Once my overnight bag had been seized from the backseat, I clicked the 'lock' button on my keys as I walked away, and looked forwards in time to see if my baby would be alright after the storm. Luckily, the tree that was going to fall would flatten the little station wagon two car spaces down from me – but my car was going to survive unharmed.

As I approached the front doors of the church, I noticed the huge bell tower on the top of the building figuratively calling out to all who were lost. The place was made of bricks; the huge, old ones like you see in ancient castles in Scotland. (Yes, I've been to Scotland. Why have wealthy parents if they don't take you anywhere? Plus, Irish boys are _cute_. Not as cute as Jasper though.)

Thunder rumbled and lightning cracked through the sky some ten or so miles over the other side of the town, so I pulled my jacket tighter and quickened my step. The doors were unlocked but heavy, so I only pushed them open just enough to slide through the gap.

What I saw inside was incredible. While outside it was a graveyard (no pun intended), the inside of the church was full of so many people that I almost fell over with shock.

There were pews in the main area of the church straight in front of me, and many of those seats were dotted with people sitting around with fruitcake in one hand and a steaming mug of coffee in the other. Right up the front of the church where the hugely decorated altar stood, was a long table laden with all kinds of finger-food – little sandwiches, party pies and pasties, cups of cordial and thermoses with mugs in stacks beside them. I could immediately tell who the volunteers were – all of them were hurrying about carrying stacks of paper or plates of food or giving people directions around the place. They all had infectious smiles on their faces.

However, their cheery disposition clashed with the unhappiest of the 'homeless'. To my left there was a pretty blonde girl with red nail polish on her fingers heading down a hallway, clusters of people were swarming across the entrance area and families with wailing children were trying to placate them with large helping of chocolate cake.

My stomach rumbled at the thought of actually eating something so yummy. It hadn't been long since the bread roll in the car, but the roll hadn't been big and I could stomach more than most people would guess.

I saw a large woman with a purple t-shirt sitting at a desk slightly off to the right. There were two people in the line-up, so I went there, assuming it was the place to go if you were new. While I waited behind a shortish girl with wildly curly brown hair and a disgruntled expression, I looked around.

The church was really very, very big. The area I'd entered through looked big enough to seat perhaps fifty people, though they would have to have sat in three long rows or a lot of shorter rows to fit. There was a doorway leading upstairs behind the desk with all the papers where volunteers constantly flitted in and out, carrying assorted random items. The worship area of the church was absolutely massive – the roof stretched high to the ceiling along with the windows. Though those windows were boarded up, judging by the magnificence of the rest of the place, the glass stain would be enough to distract you for a whole Sunday service.

Separating the area I was in now and the huge room in front was a glass wall, split only by the supporting beams between panes. I turned when an old lady laughed rapaciously at something behind me and noticed another door leading off down another hallway. People were going in and out of these rooms regularly, and I caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a bunk squashed up by the wall.

_Ooooh,_ I thought excitedly. _I hope I get the top!_

Finally, after listening to snippets of conversation-come-argument between the roundish administrator and the curly girl in front of me; ("But she just _walked in on me!_ I don't want to sleep in the same room as someone like that! She didn't knock! Didn't even apologise properly!") I was first in the line.

The lady cleared her throat before addressing me, and I looked at the name tag pinned to her collar. _Mrs Jennifer Cope._

"Hello young lady, are you looking for a room?" she asked kindly, overcoming the stress of her previous customer easily. I assumed that she'd had to deal with just as bad before – or maybe worse.

"Yes thanks," I said, flashing my sweetest grin. "I'm here on my own."

She smiled in a motherly fashion. "Well then, I'll just need your name and a few other details before I give you a room…" She whipped a piece of paper from the stack behind her and handed it to me. It was the same piece I'd seen Jasper write his name on in my vision. "Here you are," she handed me a pen.

I wrote my name, home address and phone number, and added my car's make and model just for safe measure. If someone was going to steal my baby, then I wanted the church to know about it.

Once Jennifer Cope had scanned through my form, she put it on the top of another stack and reached for yet another piece of paper. "You'll be in room 19 with a girl your age; Rosalie. Make sure you knock," she added, and I could tell she was thinking of the curly girl previous to me.

"Will do," I promised, gently tapping the tips of my fingers on the table in a farewell gesture before heading off down the halls to my 'dorm'.

When I reached number 19, the door was closed. I raised a fist and gently knocked three times. No one answered. So I pushed the door open and peeked inside, seeing only by the light of the single vanity sitting beside the bed on the right. _Damn, no bunk bed in here._ Someone – Rosalie, I assumed, was lying completely under the covers save for one foot poking out from the knee down and dangling off the edge.

Quiet as a pixie I put my bag up on the empty bed, then backed slowly out of the room and pulled the door closed behind me. Just as I turned to start adventuring about the place, I hit something hard as a brick wall and nearly toppled backwards.

"Oh! Sorry!" apologised a deep male voice, catching an arm behind my shoulders to save me from a sure concussion. "Didn't see you there."

I stood up straight to observe the man in front of me. He was very tall, much taller than me – though that wasn't hard – and at least four times as wide. I'd never seen anything like him before – it was like he was dressed for American football only his shoulder pads were under the skin and made of muscle, as were the ones for his legs. Everything was in proportion though – and he actually had a neck. I would have expected someone like that to have lost their neck to the muscles across their collarbones. He was very good-looking; kind of childishly mischievous with dimples and toddler-style curly brown hair. I honestly expected him to start sucking his thumb, he was so cute. I wanted to pinch his cheek.

"Emmett," he said, grinning wider still. He held out a hand.

"Alice," I replied, taking it. I couldn't see my hand from the wrist down once he'd closed his fingers.

"You're staying here?" I asked him, thinking he looked a bit too calm to be lost in a storm.

"Nah, just hired help who can't drive home any more." He looked up and down the hallway, obviously searching for something. "Listen, I know this is kinda random, but I'm looking for a pretty blonde girl. About this high," he held one hand a foot and a half above my head, "and she looks dead tired."

"Don't know her name?"

"Nah. I'm just a bit worried, she looked kinda sick, you know?"

I chuckled. "Don't we all?"

He laughed too.

"I haven't, but if I do I'll give you a shout. Unless, of course, she doesn't want to be found," I added cheekily, joking around to break the ice.

He accepted the attempt wholeheartedly. "Alright, thanks a bunch. I've gotta get some more stuff from my truck, but I might see you later?"

"Yeah no worries," I said, waving as he headed back the way he'd come. I watched until he was gone, but headed in the opposite direction when I saw three volunteers trying to lug a mattress through the crowded hallway.

Out in the entrance area, I stood by the doorway and peered around for Jasper, waiting. On the other side of the doorway was a girl with mahogany brown hair and lips like Angelina Jolie. She seemed to be staring at a guy across the room who had rather pale skin and copper coloured hair – and was so immersed in her ogling that she probably didn't even realise I was there. I allowed her to go about her business uninterrupted.

No more than five seconds later the heavy church doors opened, and there he was. A strong gust of wind whirled his clothes around him, and those of the people closest to the door, but a second later the wind outside had sucked the door back in to place and everything was still again. As a fifty-something lady with strawberry hair passed him and smiled welcomingly, he clutched that damn leather bag closer to his body. I wondered what type of a life he had been living in order to instil such defensive habits.

He tried to blend in and did well enough, side stepping until his back touched a wall. He stood there for a while, eyes casting around the room. I could tell that everything he observed was going in to some mental file and that he wasn't going to skim over me once his eyes came this way, so I ducked away before such a thing could happen.

He didn't need to know I was here just yet.

* * *

**Okey dokey! That's where the story lies so far. Let me know what you think! And, here's the question for today:**

**Chapter 3 Question:**

**What is your favourite band?**

**Mine's Muse - but I already had Muse on the brain before I'd even heard of Twilight. So it's not just cos of SM's love for the band :-D**

**Oh, and go bug Sierra Echo Bravo to get her mind firing and to post chapter 3 - she's been out of touch with our coordinator. Thank you!!**

**-Shaps**


	4. Surprise!

**My dear readers! We are back in action - and to make up for a long gap between chapters, here is a rather long Chapter 4. Enjoy!**

* * *

It was a little while later when some _real_ activity started. Keeping to myself, I'd wandered about the church and discovered two things. One, that there was a doorway hanging behind a large floor rug which led upstairs to where a huge organ overlooked the congregational area; and two, that the snack food table was absolutely _fantastic_.

I'd just polished off some of everything and was sneaking back to the mini éclairs when the girl with Angelina Jolie lips went running past an open door just behind me, breathing heavily for a doctor's attention. I almost dropped my plate as everything around me swam, then went blank, and I saw a blonde girl on a gurney being wheeled through a hallway where the main toilets were.

Then everything came back in to focus – as much as it could when people were standing about the place, chattering and eating and laughing and reaching for more food.

I watched as the Tomb Raider ran back down the hall, this time followed by a blonde man holding a leather bag and a kind-faced woman following closely behind. I assumed that this was the doctor she'd been looking for.

As the last of the woman's brown hair whipped out of sight, I realised which hallway they were in. My vision had been referring to something happening right _now_; so I set my plate down and snuck around the borders of the gossiping crowd. Had I had no vision I would still have followed; I was curious by nature. It was just a good thing I wasn't a cat.

In the hall, those who had realised what was happening (and were now crowding around the toilet area) were being shepherded out by a bald guy who wasn't much taller than me but much wider – and not in the way Emmett was built. Gravity had moulded his mass accordingly.

I slipped past him easily – there were so many people trying to get around him to help or ogle that he was almost purple with the repetitive string of cautionary words he was coming out with.

There was a water cooler a little way back from the restroom where the commotion was centred, so I waited there. I needed to make sure the girl in my vision was okay – because if I'd Seen her to begin with, someone of a higher power wanted me to be here right now.

I understood why when Tomb Raider girl appeared from the men's bathroom, and Jasper followed closely behind. Immediately, thin ropes tightened over my heart, and I felt something in my stomach turn unpleasantly. _Were they together? Was this why he'd wanted me to go away?_

As I watched them speak to each other, I noticed that it was laced with the casual awkwardness and politeness used only around someone you'd just met. I didn't think Jasper to be the type for a quickie (not one followed by a pleasant chat with his accomplice, at least) so I forced myself to stay behind the water cooler and simply observe. As much as I wanted to speak with him, I doubted _he_ would want to speak with _me_ and besides, my purpose here was for the injured blonde and not a wayward hottie. Unfortunately.

As I watched, the big guy I'd met earlier, Emmett, approached the two of them lightly and asked them a question. Jasper's eyes narrowed as he answered, and by the slight withdrawal of Emmett's friendliness, Jasper's words had been anything but. They spoke again, Emmett trying to keep things casual, but Jasper stepped slightly in front of the girl (who was looking quite at a loss of what to do with herself), and said something clearly harsh. I could tell from here that Emmett's mouth formed the words, "What's your problem?" to which Jasper just glared.

There was a clattering and much shooing of people as the door to the Ladies' opened and out came the end of the gurney I'd been waiting for. Her feet appeared first, then swung away from me so the direction of travel was directly toward Jasper's party of three. She had an oxygen mask covering much of her face. By a sense of intuition rather than a vision, I knew that I _was_ here for Jasper and not for gurney-girl after all. So I didn't follow her through the halls.

"Clear a path!" the blonde man at the head of the stretcher called. I knew right away that this was the doctor – both the authority in his tone and the way he was calmly instructing all around him were clear evidence of that.

Jasper, his lady-friend and Emmett all flattened themselves against either wall of the hallway – Emmett opposite the other two. If the glare Jasper was directing at Emmett was anything to go by (Emmett, the only person in this place I could as yet call my friend), Jasper was not planning on baking cupcakes and painting his toenails with Emmett as company.

Emmett, whose eyes had been trained on the girl under the oxygen mask, did not see Jasper's narrowing eyes or tensing muscles. So when he said something and made to follow the medics, it came as no surprise to _me_ that Jasper leapt forward and practically pinned him to the wall, getting right up in his face as one hand crept down to his pocket.

_That's bad,_ I thought in a panic, and started to hurry myself down the hall. However, a very stupid action stopped me dead in my tracks.

Tomb Raider stepped between the two of them, and tried feebly to shove Jasper away from Emmett. I knew from experience that this would not have been easy – and, predictably, she didn't sway him at all.

I knew a visual of me would not help Jasper's temper right at the moment, so I sidestepped in to a doorway like a vacuum had pulled me there, and I could peer around the corner to spy on the exchange without being seen. I kept one eye trained carefully on the arm lowered at his side. And, as Jolie spoke, I had the excellent advantage of being able to eavesdrop too.

"Are you crazy?" she said, standing her ground firmly. I was mildly impressed – she was either brave or very stupid. Probably both.

"Bella, get away from him," Jasper growled, stepping back ever so slightly. Now, I didn't know a lot about my blonde bombshell, but I knew enough that by him retreating ever so slightly, he didn't want to hurt her. However, the tone of his voice may have given her a different impression to me – because she blanched.

"Matt, calm down!" Bella half looked back at Emmett and stepped forward, recreating a small measure of personal space between them.

Matt? What? His name was not _Matt_, it was _Jasper._

"I don't know why you're doing this, but you have to stop," she went on, trying not to sound scared, I'd bet. She clenched her fists and cemented herself between them.

Definitely stupid.

Jasper looked at Emmett, furious. I didn't understand his hostility. Emmett didn't seem the kind to curse if he nailed something through his thumb! I doubted he'd said or done anything to infuriate Jasper so much. There must be a mistake.

"No," Bella snapped, sounding like a child who'd just found out their most hated vegetable was on the menu for dinner. "I won't."

When I'd first seen the Angelia Jolie-girl, she was staring at a guy with ivory skin and brown hair so dark it had red tones to it. It was this same guy who appeared like out of nowhere now, and interrupted in the same fashion I'd been aiming for.

"Bella!" he shouted, sprinting down the hallway. He was aiming right for Jasper and _damn _was he fast! "Get away from her!"

Jasper looked unphased. His expression barely changed as he stepped out of the stranger's path at the last moment, flicked his fist into the air and made bronzy's head snap back with the force of the punch. I gasped. Jasper _really_ must have been raised in some hellish conditions to do something so easily.

Bella kind of squeaked when she gasped. It was much louder than mine. But she bent over the guy, who had been clotheslined onto the floor by Jasper's shot, and started fussing.

"Edward," she gasped again when she saw the already-swelling injury to his eye. It looked rather painful – and Edward made it worse by shaking his head slightly, I'm sure. "Are you alright?"

But he composed himself. Guys were so stupid sometimes – pretend it didn't hurt or else. "Shouldn't I be asking _you_ that?" He grinned at her. Brave move.

Bella narrowed her eyes slightly and gently touched her palm to his face. I guessed that was because she wanted to test for a break. She looked relieved enough that I thought there must not be one.

Emmett had been watching this unexpected exchange with a slack-jawed expression. He came right back into the thick of things with a single comment, though.

"You are bat shit insane," he said to Jasper.

Jasper seemed to remember what he'd been doing a minute ago. "That's right. So when I threaten to kill you, listen."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Bella snapped loudly. She was still tending to Edward though – and Edward didn't seem to mind at all. Jasper ignored her. He was busy intimidating a very uncomfortable Emmett. "Hey," she added, smacking his arm. Stubborn girl.

"Edward was going to do unto me if I didn't do unto him first, weren't you Eddy?" Jasper said sarcastically.

Edward tried to sit up. Bella stopped him. "I'll still kick your ass-"

"Don't worry, Eddy, I was just leaving." He scooped up his bag without taking his eyes off of Emmett. A short vision informed me that no one else would be receiving an injury in the near-future.

"I don't know what you think I did, but I didn't do it," Emmett said, annoyed.

Jasper disappeared down the hall then, but not before saying, "Then you got nothing to worry about, do you?"

Edward dropped his brows and started rubbing his knuckles. "God damned stupid mother fu-"

But Bella slapped his hand to cut him off.

However, I could see from the look on this Edward's face that he was not willing to drop the subject. He lead Bella away with his arm around her shoulders like she belonged to him, and every feeling of tension I had had about she and Jasper being an item in any universe fell away to nothing.

However, another tension replaced it. My vision of the hall swam, so I pulled open the door behind me and forced myself in the room. Just before my _other_ sight took over, I flicked on the light and saw that I was in a janitor's closet. Excellent. No one would disturb me in here.

I sat on a paint bucket and closed my eyes, willing the future to come down and meet me.

I saw Edward standing outside a room with 220 written on it. He was obviously still in the church; but the light was dimmer. It must be twilight. Edward looked up and down the hall before opening the door and slipping inside. There, he checked that he was alone before crossing the room in two swift strides and snatched a beaten leather bag from the floor.

Jasper's bag.

He unzipped it and held it close to his face, angling the opening to the light to see better. He stuck one hand in and ruffled things around before freezing, then withdrawing his hand, Jasper's gun dangling on the end of his finger. He lay it flat on his palm, staring, then whispered to himself, "Who the fuck _is_ he?"

I opened my eyes back in the janitor's closet. No, no, no! I couldn't allow this to happen – Jasper would probably be arrested! Carrying a dangerous weapon and all that. Especially if he didn't have a licence to accompany it, which I very much doubted. I knew little about the world of guns and ammunition, but I _did_ know gun licences cost a fair bit to acquire and likely as much to maintain.

I jumped up from the paint can, panicked. My head would have hit the shelf above me if I was a taller person, and not for the first time since arriving here I was glad of my stature. Being small would be useful when I was to go gallivanting around the halls to find Jasper's room.

Quietly, and reminding myself far too much of secret agent movies, I cracked open the closet door and peered out. There were some people up one end of the hall but they weren't paying attention to anyone but themselves. So I slipped out, standing up straight just in case anyone was looking, and took care to close the door firmly behind me.

Room 220, room 220… I walked down the hall, following the climbing numbers. I must've been halfway around the church halls before I found it. Room 220 was waiting there for me, and as though someone upstairs knew what I needed to do now, the halls in either direction were devoid of life. Gulping down a lump in my throat, I raised a fist and knocked on the door, praying like hell that no one was in there.

There was no answer. I twisted the knob and pushed it open a sliver, waiting for someone on the other side to yell at me to go away. But no voices spoke.

"Room service…?" I tried feebly, wary that someone might be sleeping. Still no answer. So I took a huge breath, held it, and pushed open the door.

It was empty. Quickly, I flicked on the light and shoved the door closed. I ignored all the other things in the room except Jasper's leather bag. There was a black plastic bag next to it, but I bit down my curiosity and searched for the gun instead. And a moment later, I held it in my hand. Cold, hard, shiny and lethal. Hoping the safety or whatever was on, I pointed it to the floor and lowered it in to the pocket of my jacket. It was hidden from sight; there wasn't even a dent or a bulge where it rested.

I zipped the crinkly leather bag up, put it back where I'd found it, and stole from the room on my tippy toes. The next two minutes were a blur.

I walked so quickly to get back to my room that everyone must've thought I badly needed to use the bathroom. Every time someone's eyes fell on me I broke out in an additional cold sweat, chanting to myself that they couldn't possibly know what the weight in my pocket really was. But every time I took a step and it touched against my leg, I felt terribly pleased that I had not shot myself in the foot just yet. Literally or figuratively.

Fortunately, my roommate had left, so when I leaned back against the closed door once I was in the safety of my dorm and closed my eyes with relief, there was no one looking at me with a raised brow and an upcoming question. I then became aware that she could return at any moment, however, so I got up and snatched a pair of woolly grey socks from my overnight bag, shoved the gun inside and buried it at the bottom of my underwear stack. When I put the bag back on the floor I took care that the barrel of the gun was facing away from both my roommate's bed and the door.

Jasper's secret was safe for now.

- - -

Dinner was extremely uneventful. I didn't spot Emmett in the crowd – and since he was exceptionally easy to spot I assumed he wasn't in the room at all. The gruel that was slapped down on my plate almost made me gag – it was no comparison to the superior lunch of finger food that I'd enjoyed earlier. I would have to make a meal of the chocolate I'd smuggled in with me.

While I pretended to eat, I looked around the room. I told myself I was only looking for Emmett but I knew perfectly well who I was really scanning the heads for. And I found him.

On the other side of the room, in the seat furthest as possible from my own, Jasper sat. He had a whole table to himself, which didn't surprise me. I was beginning to think Jasper could usually send people running with a glare, and that I was a strange exception to that normality.

A pretty blonde girl joined him a minute after my staring had begun. She looked extremely odd – her pants were two sizes too big and her shirt hung off her like elephant skin. She had a faded leather jacket over the top. I had the intense urge to go and dress her nicely for a moment. They talked across the table, the blonde pulling up a chair – well, _she_ talked and Jasper contributed minimal words to the conversation, preferring to nod and chew slowly through a plate of food identical to my own. However, despite his short sentences, he seemed to be pissing her off something royal. She started shaking, he said something, and then she raised her hand and slapped him. The sound was sharp, like a firecracker, and though I could almost see the pink handprint from across the room Jasper didn't raise his hand to his face in pain, or surprise. His expression didn't change at all. If his face hadn't been slightly turned in the direction of the hit, I'd have believed I'd imagined it altogether. The blonde said something to him, but Jasper just looked back at her with mild interest and finished his plate without comment.

I almost felt like laughing at the bizarre situation.

She got up a moment later, without saying goodbye, and walked away from Jasper like their conversation had been nothing more than an exchange of the time. Jasper pretended she hadn't been there at all.

Quietly, I got up and dumped my plate in the rubbish, then stacked my tray on top of the others. Just as I left the room, I couldn't help but look over at Jasper. And as my eyes found his, he looked up from his and plate right at me.

Shocked, and hoping he had not registered what he'd seen, I whipped around the corner and out of sight. I would let him know I was here when I was ready… and something told me that now was not the time for a friendly "Hi! Fancy seeing you here!" moment.

I went back to my room and grabbed my overnight bag, thoughts focused on a hot shower. Checking that my towel was in there, I went off down the hall to the bathroom where the blonde girl's accident had occurred earlier today. Inside, someone had cleaned up whatever blood there might've been, and mopped the entire floor. The room still looked like a public restroom, but at least it was a little more hygienic.

At the end of the aisle of lavatories were six showers, three on each side. I looked at all of them with a critical eye, choosing the cleanest to use. I stepped inside and locked the door behind me, setting my bag down on the little bench in the non-shower half of the cubicle. Without bothering to take my towel out, I turned on the hot water tap to make sure it worked. It took a minute of patience, but eventually steam accompanied the gushing water. The water, surprisingly, was not the murky brown kind. They must have a rain tank or a very good water filter.

I shut off the faucet and went back to my overnight bag. There, I pulled out my towel and hung it on one of the available two pegs; dug around for my shower radio slash mp3 player and switched it on to my 'favourites' play list; found my pyjamas and put them on the bench beside my bag; got out my body wash and shampoo and conditioner, and double checked the lock before getting undressed and stepping under the water.

It took me about fifteen minutes to shower, moisturise and get dressed again. My damp hair smelled like purple, my pyjamas were clean and soft and just as I stepped out of the cubicle, my favourite song by Eurythmics came on. The sounds of the eighties bounced off the tiles of the room, making me dance to the door rather than walk to it.

Just as I was reaching for the doorhandle, it burst open before I touched it, and the girl called Bella came in with a change of clothes and a towel draped over her arm.

"Sorry," she said when I jumped back. "I didn't get you did I?"

I grinned. "Just missed."

"You'd be one of the lucky ones then." She laughed.

"Oh?" I was curious about this girl. She'd been involved with much of Jasper's recent hours of life.

She wrinkled her nose at some memory or thought. "Usually I injure someone with my unco-ordination. I must've been taking a whiz when they handed out the coordination tickets."

I laughed. "You're quick. I like that." I paused, waiting for a vision. It only took a second to flash before my eyes – the two of us laughing and talking and clearly being great friends. This one was a keeper. "Alice," I offered my hand.

She took it. "Bella."

"You from around here? Volunteer or stranded citizen, I mean."

"Stranded citizen. I'm from Jacksonville and Washington at the same time. You?"

"Also stranded. I live a couple of hours up north – but I can't say I exist in two places at once. That's quite a skill." I laughed, and watched her reaction.

"One of the outcomes of a divorce, I'm afraid." She didn't look too upset by the D word.

"Well. I'm keeping you from your shower. Use the middle one on the right – it's the cleanest." I smiled, showing not quite all my teeth, because apparently my excited smile frightened people into serial killer scenarios. Funny for me – not so much for them. And I liked this one.

She nodded once and started heading down the bathroom. "Thanks. See you 'round?"

"Sure," I smiled before I pulled open the door cautiously and went back out in to the hallway.

I stopped dead in my tracks, shocked. My breathing halted sharply and my limbs locked when I saw him standing there, leaning against the opposite wall, calm as a summer's night. The door thudded dully in to its frame behind me.

"Fancy meeting you here," he almost growled, glaring. "I could have sworn you were supposed to be far away from this whole storm."

It took my brain a moment to comprehend, then release the tension on my joints. I shuffled my feet and recovered like no pause had passed.

"I didn't think it as safe to be driving back. The roads are awful right now. Why?" I said cheerfully, hoping like anything that his questions were related to concern and the adamant wish that I would disappear.

But he looked away, and my smile lowered slightly. "That's good," he said dismissively. He seemed to be counting the bricks on the wall to my right, then looked back at me, something new in his stormy eyes. "I just would've hated for you to have been following some loser."

I was well used to dealing with this kind of approach – the self-hate angle. I'd seen it a lot in the people who didn't talk to anyone back at school (anyone besides me, who would practically pull the words out) and had mastered the way-to-deal.

"Good thing I don't know any losers worth following," I rebuked easily. I was prepared for another comeback should he actually say the words. But no.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Good thing. I certainly wouldn't want you getting involved in anything illegal. Anything that might get you hurt."

"I'll keep my eyes peeled for such things, then." A pause. I watched his reaction, but his expression was carefully glassy. A good thing, that – he was having to _try_ to hide his feelings from me. But still, a change of topic would probably help. "Are you enjoying your stay in Chateau Storm Shelter?"

"It's got lots of interesting people." He reached in to his pocket and pulled out the ugly sock I'd stuffed his gun into not two hours ago. "Lots of interesting things to find."

I giggled nervously. "Socks? They're interesting, I guess, if you're ..." I was grasping at straws now, and he knew. He cut me off, handing back the sock.

"Stop trying to help. You have no idea how much trouble you could get yourself into."

"I think it might be worth it," I said, reaching for it. I didn't know if it was intentional or not, but our skin did not touch. _Maybe he's afraid of scaring me again?_ At this thought, I raised an eyebrow. "You'd be surprised at how much I can handle."

"Some things aren't worth the risk."

"Hmm." I knew he was going to be difficult. Yet it seemed he didn't understand at all how very _worth the risk_ he was to me. "Enough with the euphemism's." I said bluntly. "I'm not giving up on you, Jasper. And I will follow you until you understand that."

"Alice," (I thrilled at him saying my name) "don't get involved in my life. I would rather get myself arrested or killed than even take the chance of you getting hurt. And that is not just a statement. Consider that a threat, if you really care what happens to me."

I'd heard that last sentence before, oddly enough. "Aw, that's the sweetest threat I've ever heard! Thanks." I grinned, knowing how very much I was irritating him. I only did it because it was one of the few expressions he allowed himself to display – anything more than his mandatory scowl was a small victory to me. "But no deal." Another pause. "I'll see you around, okay? And don't run off, I don't want to have to mow you down." I stepped lightly around him, walking slowly enough for him to stop me if he wished.

I didn't break pace even though the room swam, because I had been feeling the edges of the vision before it had arrived. I was in a hall, the lights were out, and a small level of orangey street-light glow was creeping in through the cracks in the window covers. Two people were sitting there – a guy, Emmett, I was fairly sure; and a pretty blonde girl. She looked a little ill.

But that wasn't the entire point of the vision, I knew. It was telling me that it would be dark and lightless soon – because the electricity was going to go out in seven…

However, he didn't call me back, and when I looked over my shoulder to gauge his reaction, I was pleasantly surprised.

Five…

For the first time since the pleasantries in the restaurant had taken place, his defiant mask of expressionless-ness had slipped, and he was watching me with something best described as hunger.

Three… Two…

Hook, line and sinker baby.

One…

And the lights went off. Blackout.

I grinned, though I knew no one could see me, and walked the familiar path to my dorm with my hands in front of my face just in case an obstacle came my way.

Time for some fun-in-the-dark.

* * *

**Mua ha ha. What will happen during the blackout? Wait to find out. Until next time...**

**Chapter 4 Question:**

**What happened the last time you were caught checking someone out? (You may have been caught by the person you were staring at, a friend, a stranger, your significant other...?)**


	5. In The Dark

**An update! Goodness, what an event!! Hope you guys can remember enough from the previous chapters to actually understand this one :-P but oh well. All good. Read on!!**

* * *

_I didn't break pace even though the room swam, because I had been feeling the edges of the vision before it had arrived. I was in a hall, the lights were out, and a small level of orangey street-light glow was creeping in through the cracks in the window covers. Two people were sitting there – a guy, Emmett, I was fairly sure; and a pretty blonde girl. She looked a little ill._

_But that wasn't the entire point of the vision, I knew. It was telling me that it would be dark and lightless soon – because the electricity was going to go out in seven…_

_However, he didn't call me back, and when I looked over my shoulder to gauge his reaction, I was pleasantly surprised. _

_Five…_

_For the first time since the pleasantries in the restaurant had taken place, his defiant mask of expressionless-ness had slipped, and he was watching me with something best described as hunger._

_Three… Two…_

_Hook, line and sinker baby._

_One…_

_And the lights went off. Blackout._

_I grinned, though I knew no one could see me, and walked the familiar path to my dorm with my hands in front of my face just in case an obstacle came my way._

_Time for some fun-in-the-dark._

- - -

Back in my room, it didn't take long for my Superman visions to start up.

Back at home in Pine Grove, I used to get a lot of flashes of people I didn't know who were making decisions that would lead to something terrible happening. When I tried to work out what they meant, I couldn't do it. Asking my Dursley-ish parents was out of the question, as was calling the cops. What would I say? "Oh hi, I don't know her name but a girl who looks like _this_ and is wearing _this_ is going to fall off her roof while putting Christmas lights up. You might want to do something about that. Have fun finding her!"

Today I hadn't yet seen the usual one or two flashes of Strangers In Need, so it came as no surprise when a nice juicy vision popped up and made me stub my toe on the frame of my bed.

A thirty something man, balding with dark wispy hair, with more lines on his face than there ought to have been and wearing a thick weatherproof jacket, snuck out of the church's front doors and headed over to a car. He battled the brutal wind and almost slipped on the blanket of water covering everything more than once, but pulled out his keys and got in the big Land Rover dripping wet, but alive. He started the car, turned on his lights and navigated his way out of the parking lot. He was successful until he got out on to the road.

With a fizz like an angry hive of bees, a power line snapped, and the live wire fell in a sickeningly slow movement down on the bonnet of the vehicle. The SUV electrified immediately, and if the man hadn't tried to get out he would have been okay. But he shoved open the door and without thinking, grabbed the metal side in his haste. He jolted violently for a moment, jumped slightly in the air, then fell to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. He lay in the gutter, water rushing past him, dead.

I came back to reality with a gasp. For once, I could do something about this._ I could save him._

Though there were bluish solar lamps and candles all around the church, it didn't take long for me to find the guy. People looked at me in my stripy cotton pants and plain t-shirt with amusement on their faces, but no one asked why I was rushing about the place in search of the front door so frantically.

Just like in my vision, the balding man was looking around to make sure no one would see him sneak out. But this time I was there.

"Wait!" I shouted, startling those closest to me. The man whipped around guiltily, pulling his hand back from the doorhandle like he was an innocent guy who just happened to be near an exit point. "Don't leave!" I rushed over to him and stood with my back to the door so he couldn't open it.

He raised a brow. "Excuse me? Who are you?"

"You can't leave, it's not safe," I said, trying not to panic. He _couldn't_ leave. He would die if he did, and it would be entirely my fault.

"I wasn't leaving," he said, trying to look innocent.

"Were too." I folded my arms like a child. "You're not allowed. It's still stormy out."

"What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't." I pressed my back more firmly against the door. "But it's Alice."

"Well, I'm Marty. Marty Rousemen. And if I wanted to leave, I think I'm well within my rights to do so." He reached for the door handle again, but I slapped his hand away. Normally people looked surprised when I did this, but he just looked angry at me. _I_ was surprised – three seconds ago he'd been playfully denying his intention to get outside.

"You're not allowed. It's dangerous," I squeaked.

He leaned toward me, one hand on the doorknob. "Do you have children, Alice?" he asked me doubtfully.

I shook my head, scared for his life. I wasn't strong enough to physically stop him leaving and I had a feeling I was going to fail. But I didn't want to know so I dodged the visions trying to present themselves.

"Well," he continued, twisting the knob, "_I_ do. And one of them is in hospital at this moment because some idiot teenager–" he narrowed his eyes slightly, "–hit my ten year old son with their car because they were trying to be _clever_ in this kind of weather. If it's alright with you, I'd like to be by his side!"

He forcefully shoved me away from the door and wrenched it open. "No!" I almost shouted. He paused – and that was all I needed. I launched myself at the door again and slammed it shut. My chest was heaving with adrenaline. "If you go out there, you're as bad as the person that hit your son!"

He looked at me with sharp eyes. "I want to see my boy."

I clenched my jaw, determined. "No."

"You can't stop me."

"I can scream for someone who will," I threatened, pleased with myself for thinking so quickly.

But it was too early to celebrate, because he jumped forward with the reactions of a younger man and clamped a hand over my mouth, turning his body so no one could see what was going on. I tried to scream but it was too muffled. I tried to bite but I couldn't do it – and when I tried as a last resort to lick his hand to make him let go, my tongue touched nothing. He'd cupped his palm so I couldn't reach.

"Now. I'm not taking you with me, so you're going to have to stay in the closet until I get back."

For a moment, this situation didn't seem too terrible – his car would surely have missed the power line after such a long length of stalling time. But a flash of the future told me I was wrong – his car was going to drive through the deep water in the gutter and electrify the car that way. And the water would get through the door he hadn't shut properly in his haste to get away from the girl who would surely scream from her prison in the closet. He'd end up dead. Again.

"Now I'm not taking you with me, so you've going to have to stay in–"

But just as he was pushing me toward the door on the left, I heard a voice. A furious voice, no doubt, but one I would be thrilled to hear in any lifetime.

It was more of a growl, really. And a crash. But at least I knew it was him.

I was seized around the waist and tossed to the side – roughly, but gently enough that I stayed on my feet. Or maybe that was just because I'd landed with my back against the closet door.

Jasper was standing over the guy, Marty, and I didn't need a vision to know what he would do now.

"Jasper, wait!" I half cried, half commanded. My head was throbbing dully at the back and I knew there would be an egg there soon.

Jasper froze, his leg pulled back weirdly in halted-motion, prepared to deliver a knockout blow to Marty's head.

"What?" he hissed, turning his head slightly to see me better. I kept on staring because I knew it was hard to break eye contact from another in a moment like this. And I'd had enough moments like this to be a master at it.

Marty scrambled backwards to the front door, his terrified eyes on Jasper. There was a scrape under his right eye. Jasper's hands were shaking.

"He wasn't going to hurt me," I tried to placate Jasper. He didn't relax so I kept going. "He was just trying to get out of the shelter to go see his son." I felt like I was apologising. Like it was my fault that he felt compelled to protect me in the most thorough ways.

"You were trying to stop him?" He sounded shocked. I felt a small burn of indignation – I could have stopped Marty if I really had to. I just felt that he would have listened to me if I'd had a bit more time-

"He'll die if he goes out in this weather," I said defensively, jutting my chin up.

"How do you know that?" Jasper snapped. I felt disappointed – this meant he didn't believe what I'd told him in the restaurant. The restaurant… a lifetime ago. "And who are you to say that he can't risk his life for someone he loves?"

I could hear something unsaid on the end of his words… like he'd been muted in the middle a speech which was meant to go for ten lines more. I wished I could read minds as well as tell the future… that would be brilliant.

"I know it, Jasper," I insisted, looking up at him, trying very hard to _make_ him remember the first time we'd met. What I'd told him. To make him believe. "I just know. I couldn't let him die, could I?"

He sighed. "No, you couldn't." Then he reached out, and I stupidly started to lean forward, thinking he wanted a hug or something soft and mushy like that. Oh no.

He grabbed me not to hold me like a lover, but to imprison me like an escaping hostage. I started to squeal when one hand came up over my mouth. I clawed at his hands with sharp-nailed ferocity. I kicked my ankles into his shins but I couldn't get a good enough shot and I doubted he was feeling any pain at all.

Jasper turned slightly to a shocked Marty, who was still sitting by the door.

"Go to your son if he needs you," he said.

I started to scream behind his hand but he just tightened his grip. The tears started to roll. I knew that trying to claw his hands from me wouldn't hurt – so distraction pain was the next alternative.

I made a show of readying my elbow to throw into his stomach, which I did, twice – I would probably have a bruise from those unfairly tight abs – then I raised a foot and stomped down. Oh my god. I _hate_ being short! How do my feet not reach his feet? Why am I on my tippy toes while being held hostage? Argh!

"Go!" Jasper snapped at him. I cried faster now, seeing no waver in Marty's future. How could he do this? How could he let a man die because of me? I could stop this! Why wasn't he stopping this – or letting me stop this?

I dug my nails into the back of his hands, going for pain rather than success this time. I wanted to hurt him, for the first time since meeting him, I wanted him to be gone, gone, gone. I didn't mind so much when he was holding a gun to my head – I had known he wouldn't hurt me – but now, now he was hurting someone else. Because of me. 'Get away from me!' I wanted to scream. I opened my mouth to do so, and Jasper's palm fell between my teeth.

_Crunch._

He didn't wince but he loosened his grip over my mouth. I took a breath to shout - but then I realised. Marty was gone. Soon to be permanent. I pushed myself away from him and tried to get air to my lungs. My head was spinning. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry. I wanted to run and fall in a heap. I wanted to kick the shit out of Jasper and I wanted to kiss him.

He mumbled something and pulled me toward him, this time in a lover's embrace, as corny as it sounds. Warm, and comforting. I felt too overwhelmed to fight back like half of me wanted to.

I was aware that he was holding my wrists, preventing my following of Marty, but I didn't care. I was concentrating on what Marty's future was, step by step. I so hoped he would change his mind and come back inside.

Then my vision changed… and I froze. Thank God.

Marty tripped and hit his head, knocking himself unconscious. He wasn't dead. He wouldn't die. But he did need someone to go out there and carry him in before he drowned or was blown away or something.

I turned to Jasper, still mad as hell but relieved. "You're lucky," I hissed at him. I shoved him as hard as I could, trying to show him how mad I was. He barely jostled. He even laughed at my comment – so I turned away, and had only raised my foot in what was meant to be a dramatic exit when he grabbed my arm and spun me back to him.

"I'm lucky?" he demanded. I tried to ignore how close we were. "I'm _lucky?_ What? That my life is so good?"

Then I felt guilty; annoying, inconvenient guilt. I tried to look down, away from his intense face, but his chest was in the way.

"That you didn't hurt me?" he continued with that bitter edge to his sarcasm.

Anger started to bubble over the guilt and I wrenched myself half a step back, but he, apparently, was having none of that. He pulled me back to him, closer than before, and put a hand on my waist where my pyjama shirt had risen up. His hand felt like warm, hardened silk. Calluses, I guessed. Then he stepped into me and I felt the wall at my back. I swallowed my heart back from my throat.

"What makes you think I wasn't just trying to get you for myself?" he asked in a quieter voice; I heard the calm confidence I knew had been under his surface all along. This was the second time it'd made an appearance – the first was a lifetime ago at _Bistro By The Sea_.

"You… confuse me," I said in just as quiet a voice, feeling my body start to overheat. My face wasn't burning so I was hopeful I wasn't going pink.

"I don't think my intentions are that confusing," he whispered in my ear, slowly sliding his hand up.

"No," I agreed, putting my hand over his to stop its rise. "Your intentions aren't. But your actions are. Remember what happened after we met in the restaurant? That's totally different to this." But I didn't move his hand away from me. Even though we were in public. And almost glued together.

He started moving his hand up again, bunching the shirt over my fingers. "Every other time, I've warned you to stay away from me. You didn't think of why?"

"I tend to-" my breathing hitched when he touched a ticklish spot, "-ignore things I probably shouldn't. And I wouldn't stay away from you anyway."

"Idiot," he murmured by my throat. Then he caught my face, pulled it toward his, and kissed me.

I kissed him back, even though my brain was readied for a good-quality argument. I tried to pull myself up, wishing that I was taller, and ended up perched on the tops of his shoes. I had my arms locked very tightly around his neck to keep myself upright - and the wall at my back helped too.

His hands were everywhere, leaving the skin he touched tingling and irritatingly empty. Kissing had never been a strong point of mine, this I knew, but being so distracted by every part of Jasper had that knowledge flying out of my mind. Until I felt his light tongue running along my lips.

The need for air eventually became inevitable. I gasped as my heart and lungs demanded oxygen, but he looked cool as a cucumber. He was even grinning, but there was something off about it…

"New at this?"

I barely stopped myself from blanching. What just happened? Weren't we just locked in a _passionate embrace_, to quote some lame old-style movie?

I raised an eyebrow. "Clearly, I don't meet your professional standards," I said, mocking indignation. I hope that this kind of joking attitude would return the same guy that I'd started to kiss. I hopped down from his boots, carefully slipping around him. "Too bad I won't have a chance to practice," I said in a joking voice. I wasn't really kidding though. His Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde thing had really thrown me off, because I hadn't Seen it first. Surprises sucked.

"Too bad," he said, turning and starting to walk away. I guessed he was heading for his room. "You're not really my type anyway."

I stopped dead, and my nails started to bleed my palms. I began to bite my lip, knowing that getting angry wasn't going to help, but I couldn't help it. "Yeah, self-respecting isn't really your type, _Matt_," I snapped at his back.

"Naïve and helpless isn't really my type," he called over his shoulder as he reached the doorway. "Self respect is optional. Though it usually makes for a better lay."

_What the fuck just happened?_

I'd never understood the saying 'bristling with anger' before. But as I watched him slip around the corner, that smirk on his face, and those words ringing in my ears, every single fibre in my body wanted to go after him and make him suffer even half the humiliation I was feeling.

Rather than sink my shoe into his rib, I stormed away to find Emmett, who I knew would carry Marty back in with no questions asked. I didn't look behind me.

- - -

… _I had been feeling the edges of the vision before it had arrived. I was in a hall, the lights were out, and a small level of orangey street-light glow was creeping in through the cracks in the window covers. Two people were sitting there – a guy, Emmett, I was fairly sure; and a pretty blonde girl. She looked a little ill._

I wandered to the side of the building closest to the street parallel to the church. The street lights had been helpful in that respect. I climbed a few sets of stairs and rounded some corners which ought to have led me in a circle, but soon I saw Emmett sitting in the ground in a short hallway. He had his legs stretched out in front of him and his arms folded across his chest. I might have thought he was sleeping if his breathing weren't so irregular.

The blonde I'd seen in my vision was there too; obvious sleeping, but I'd been wrong about one thing. She was _stunning._ But she was lying in the corner, as far from Emmett as possible in the small space.

I took three steps to Emmett and sunk down beside him. Even if I didn't have a second sight, I knew he wouldn't instinctively strike at me. He was too gentle for that.

"Having fun, Emmett?" I asked quietly, not wanting to wake the girl up. She stirred in her sleep – she couldn't possibly be comfortable. The stones under my well-clothed posterior were freezing. And she didn't have shoes on either.

He turned his head to me before opening his eyes. "Hey Shorty. I should've known you'd turn up here."

"Oh?"

"You're one of those people who seem to know about everything going on around you."

I laughed as quietly as I could manage. He was right on the money – except when it came to Jasper. "I'd agree with you there."

He pulled his knees up a bit to balance his forearms on them. His back arched as he yawned. "Somehow I don't think you came here because of the excellent seating conditions," he said sarcastically. "What's up?"

I grinned and gave him my most dazzling I'm-too-helpless-to-help-myself smile. Its effect was immediate. I could have asked him to pick up the blade from a working blender and he'd have done it, just for this expression. I must try it on Jasper some time.

"I have a favour to ask," I said sheepishly, fiddling with my fingers. "A friend of mine tripped outside and I need someone to bring him inside, but you're the only one I trust not to hurt him."

He stood up right away. I had him wrapped around my little finger. "Where is he?"

"Right outside the front doors of the church. He's unconscious. Take him to the hospital wing, 'kay?"

"Okay," he obeyed. But then he looked to the blonde, who was shifting in her sleep again. I understood his reason for staying here.

"I'll look after her. You won't be long, and I'll be right here when you get back, Emmett. She won't wake up lonely."

He grinned at me, adorable dimples prominent. I had the urge to pinch his cheek – that must be how it felt for others when I used my childlike charm. Cool.

"Thanks Alice. Back in five."

He disappeared down the hall, barely making a sound. I wondered whether he was naturally light on his feet, or he just didn't want to wake the girl. I turned my attention to her at the thought.

She was wearing jeans which were two sizes too big for her around the waist, but long enough for her legs. A baggy grey sweater hung from her shoulders, giving her the appearance of someone who'd recently lost a lot of weight. It was long enough to be classed as a dress. She had a faded and battered leather jacket over it with the sleeves shaken over her hands for warmth. There were some spots of red on it – blood, I guessed.

When I spotted her shoeless feet once again I realised two things. The first was that this must be the girl Emmett'd been looking for yesterday – the one who'd tried to kill herself in the bathroom. I wasn't particularly deterred by that fact – nowhere in her future was she going to try and do it again. Something of a personal determination was preventing that outcome, I could See.

The second was that she was my roommate. She had no shoes, for one; and the night of the attempted suicide, my roommate had remained anonymous. It had to be her. I wondered where I could find her some more attractive clothes – or better-fitting, at least. I wondered what her name was.

Emmett came back just as the blonde rolled over on her side so she was facing away from me. His sleeves and the cuffs of his pants were both damp.

"Done," he breathed as he sat beside me. I noticed his subtle step over me, so he was closer to the girl. He _definitely_ had a thing for her.

"He's okay?" I asked him.

He nodded. "Doc said he has a bump on the noggin', and that he'll be right after a bit of sleep."

"Cool. Thanks Emmett."

"No problem," he grinned in the darkness. I heard some rain patter on the window above our heads.

We sat in silence for a minute or so. I decided to work toward asking the question that was burning into my brain.

"So why are the two of you down here?"

Emmett shifted so he was slumping against the wall a little more. "I was wondering around, seeing if I could find anything cool, when I heard someone rattling around down here. Thought I'd check it out and see if they were alright."

"And you found blondie?"

"Yep."

"Nice catch."

He laughed. "Indeed she is." He paused. "And you came up here to find me?"

"Yep. Like I said, you're the only one I trusted to carry my friend in."

He waved his hand and pretended to be embarrassed. "Stop, you're making me blush," then he trilled a laugh like a fangirl.

I giggled too, I couldn't help it. "I nearly got lost on the way up here, you know."

"Same," he admitted. "I was originally just wandering around, but then I worked out I had no idea where I was."

"You found your way to the front of the church fine," I said, confused.

"Yeah, I can get _there_ fine, but I came from the other direction," he jabbed his thumb toward the blonde, who I now realised was facing an old door, not a wall.

"Oh. Fair enough."

"Yeah. I plan on mapping this place out in my head when it's light again."

"You're an adventurer," I assumed. He nodded. "Been anywhere good?"

He scoffed. "Not really." A thought crossed his face and he grinned. "I hate freeze-dried food."

"Me too! And sleeping bags. They're terrible – mattresses all the way."

"Absolutely." He arched his back again.

"Your back must be killing you," I noted. "Mine's starting to hurt and I haven't been here as long as you."

He chuckled, a gruff sound. I could hear the beginnings of a cold in his voice – he needed to get some Vitamin C into his system. "They put me in a small closet under a stairwell... sleeping there would really have murdered my back."

I decided now was the time to strike. "So, is that the blonde you were looking for yesterday?"

He looked down, his hands winding together. I guessed it was something he did when he was thinking. "Yes… she's also the one who had the 'accident' in the bathroom."

"So, you had good reason for worrying about her."

"Maybe," he wondered to himself. "But I think I scared her. She screamed bloody murder when I stopped her from falling down the stairs last night."

"She threw herself down the stairs?!" She might not be planning to kill herself in the _future_, but by the sound of it the girl had had a fair crack at success in the recent past.

"I don't know… but maybe." He looked sad. I felt really terrible for him – he _really_ liked her.

"I wonder who she is," I questioned to myself. Emmett was on the same train of thought.

"Your guess is as good as mine; I wasn't able to get anything out of her. To think there is someone who can resist this face," he added cheekily. I giggled again.

"Gee, thanks for the confidence boost."

Suddenly the girl moved; her knee seemed to buckle and she had to react very quickly to prevent a broken nose. I smiled. She'd been awake for a while.

"And she's finally awake!" I announced happily.

The blonde opened her eyes – blue, but not the same kind as my own – and looked at us both. There was something there; not fear, but severe caution. She was scared of something.

The rain suddenly picked up and started slapping the windows like wet strands of long hair on a face.

She was looking at me in particular. "Do I know you?" she croaked in a voice that obviously hadn't been used in a while. She crawled to her feet, but I didn't believe it was because she wanted to stretch. Something gave her a defensive edge; like a mouse in a glass box with cats in the shadows. She was shivering from the cold.

I suddenly got a vision; a very quick one, no more than a second, but an important one all the same. I was sitting at a table with five others; this blonde girl, Bella, Edward, Emmett and Jasper. Edward and Jasper were at extreme opposites. I couldn't blame him.

"No… not exactly…" I answered her question. "But I'm going to assume that you're my roommate."

"And why do you say that?"

I got up, smoothing down my clothes, and repeated my earlier sentiments. "You never came back last night, and you don't have shoes." Emmett shifted beside me. It didn't escape my attention that he hadn't said much so far.

"Quite the little detective," she allowed. She unconsciously tossed her braid behind her and started to walk away. "And, for the record, I didn't throw myself down the stairs."

Emmett went pink when she stopped to glare at him over her shoulder. I felt bad for him – he didn't know she had been listening, after all. He pushed himself against the wall to stand up and I honestly feared that he might push a hole in it for a moment.

The blonde started to slip away while Emmett twisted his back this way and that, clearly sore. I tossed him a sympathetic look and chased after her.

"I'm Alice by the way," I offered, trying to keep the tone light.

"Alright…" she hadn't expected me to follow. Oh well. I was used to that.

"What's your name?" I pressed when she didn't offer it.

She raised a brow at me, and I knew she found me annoying. Oddly, it made me want to be _more_ annoying. She needed someone to annoy her, I could tell. Loneliness might seem a good option to some, but most of the time it ended very very badly. Broken-mirror-in-bathroom style.

She took a deep breath. "I'm Rosalie."

Excellent. Emmett deserved to know that much about his lover-girl.

"Nice to meet you Rosalie." We rounded a corner which revealed a little more light. Lamps and candles had been lit around the place. "Mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Yes."

I ignored that. "Why are you dressed like that?"

Another raised eyebrow. "I doubt that you didn't hear about yesterday's incident – my clothes were ruined during that and these were some spares that the church had lying around."

My hands wanted to clap but I stopped them. "I could lend you something."

I could almost hear the eye-roll, even though she was a pace ahead of me. I wondered whether her speed was intentional or not. Good thing I liked running for recreation.

"I don't think anything of yours would fit me; your dresses would be shirts and your pants would be shorts." She had a sense of humour. Interesting.

We'd reached our dorm. She unlocked it and went in without breaking pace.

I followed and plopped down on my bed. "I think I could come up with something," I said, mind whirring. "Dressing people and giving makeovers are things I _live_ for–" I joked, waving a hand dramatically. She wasn't looking though, so I probably sounded serious and oddly enthusiastic.

"Not interested," she piped. She thrust her feet into her battered old sneakers and took a few steps to the door, pulling her hair from its braid. "Now, if you would excuse me, I'm off to take a shower."

I started to say that I hadn't been serious about the makeover crack, but decided she probably didn't care. Sharing information was a good bonding activity…

"Alright, but use the middle one, it's the only one that doesn't look like you might get hepatitis from standing in it too long." I threw in a smile but again she wasn't looking.

"Thanks for the heads up," she grumbled over her shoulder. The door clicked shut behind her.

I took a breath and slumped my shoulders – I felt a little tired. Not enough for a Nanna-nap, though. So I reached for my iPod in my bag and put the speakers in while I lay down on my mattress. Rather than sleeping, I shut my eyes and opened the floodgate for visions.

Oddly, there were no Superman visions. Just ones about the people I was most concerned with at the moment.

First, that Rosalie was going to use the shower cubicle I'd suggested. She didn't have flip-flops though.

Edward and Jasper really didn't like each other – they continually squabbled. And they were sharing a room.

The girl named Bella constantly fell over things – she had a huge bruise on her shin and would be icing it in a few minutes. It looked like she was staying in a room on her own.

Then I had the pleasure of witnessing a conversation between Rosalie and Jasper. Rosalie was calling him 'Matt' for some reason – I made a mental note to check that out. It was the end of their conversation which made me blanch, however.

"_You're an idiot," Rosalie muttered. "And why would I tell trailer trash like you about my problems?"_

_Jasper didn't look phased. "Trailer trash, huh? Says the girl wearing borrowed clothes and running from her abusive boyfriend."_

_Rosalie looked like she wanted to hit him. "I'm not running from anything."_

"_Not running is a plan I can certainly get behind," Jasper said, mischief in his eyes. "What are you doing when he finds you?"_

"_I just want to get home," she whined, clearly frustrated and uninterested. Or, that was the impression she was trying to give off. Her eyes glazed over then, and her expression changed. She became someone different for a moment. "And see him dead," she whispered furiously._

_Jasper smiled. If I had been there in physical presence, I'd have stumbled back from him in fear. "That can be arranged." He was serious. Dead serious._

_She turned and flung herself out the door into the hall, sprinting as quickly as she could to our room. _

Back in the room with my iPod in my ears, I tried not to cry out in fright.

* * *

**Opinions? Thoughts? Share!!**

**Chapter 5 Question:**

**(Finish this sentence) The greatest day of my life so far....**


End file.
